


Maybe It's Okay

by pandemoniax3



Series: Moose, Squirrels, and Angels, Oh My! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angel Castiel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Body Horror, Chubby Reader, Crying, Dean Being an Asshole, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fat Shaming, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of crying..., Men of Letters Bunker, Mentioned of Bullying, Possibly Unrequited Love, Protective Castiel, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sam Being an Asshole, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandemoniax3/pseuds/pandemoniax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst thing about it is the looks that all three of them gave you. You were barely 18, still a baby in their eyes, and you had developed a certain attraction towards them. The brothers had developed a habit of calling you Jailbait, and that little pet name would cause your beaten and broken heart to flutter even just a bit. You were like Pavlov’s dog, at full attention and at the ready for a command every time they called you by that stupid pet name, but it was the only attention that you ever really got, so you listened.<br/>Reader-Insert</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It's Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this. and couldn't stop, lol.  
> I always thought reader insert fics were so strange, but then I got hooked. So here's a little something as my welcome back! I'm starting to get back into writing, if you don't know who I am (which I'm sure you don't.)  
> Enjoy!  
> You can take the next step and use this [Interactive Reader for Chrome](http://interactivefics.tumblr.com)  
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. (:

It hurt, your heart. But then again, anyone else in your position would feel the same way. To describe it short and simple was to just say that the universe was throwing every fast ball your way, full throttle, never leaving you alone for a moment. Not to rest and definitely not to catch a breath. You never know how people can deal with it—so many emotions just whirling their way through you without a care in the world, and being able to rein them in for a moment.

Your chest felt pressed and your body felt heavy. You would look in the mirror and hate what you see, because what else are you supposed to think? What else are you supposed to think when the last words your family—your mother—said to you were that you were, quote, “a fat, selfish, pig who has done nothing good for nobody but yourself” end quote.

And that was right before your family was mauled and tortured by what you thought was the impossible…

If there was a God, (which you later find out that he had left the building some time ago) then he needed to up his game because this was just a cruel joke.

It was a stupid fight, really. You noticed your mother had been acting strangely for the past week or so and you thought nothing of it. But then her attitude was being pulled back and forth, sometimes doting on you, others she would turn her nose at you and ignore you for the night.

Life was hard, and it definitely didn’t help when you were constantly fighting your own demons. You were nearing the end of your senior year of high school, but the depression and anxiety you fought on a near daily basis was taking its toll. Your grades were dropping and fast.

Just one phone call was enough. Your mother rounded on you, pushing you hard, getting in your face about how she wished she never had you. How you wished you were a “normal” kid. And you knew, in the back of your mind, that you were a burden to your family. Medication and therapy were not cheap, and your parent’s meager income could barely keep you clothed, housed and fed.

Your kid sister just stood and watched, your father turning disappointed eyes on you. It was too much, and you tried your best to apologize. You realized, that this must have been what they were thinking for years on end.

Your sister, your perfect little sister, with her looks and her smarts. She was popular and she was cute, unlike yourself. You were the loner and the recluse in your school and town, and people called you the freak, pushing you down and looking at you like you were the thing on the bottom of their shoe.

There were times where you wished that you were the person that your sister could someday look up to in awe. If dreams were a wish, you mockingly tell yourself.

The most important people in your life were aiming their narrowed gaze, full of hate and disappoint until you couldn’t handle it anymore. No matter how much you tried apologizing, it was too little, too late.

The words echoed clear in your head as you rushed out of the house. No amount of binge-eating and self-berating could help the situation, so you went to take a walk to try and clear your head. It was late at night and you couldn’t care less but it was hours before you could make it home.

Stepping through the threshold of your home, your stomach dropped at the sight before you. It was the sound of you lurching that attracted the attention of… that _thing_ your way. Blood splattered across your walls, a harsh contrast to the cream-coloured paint. Your little sister and your father were lain across the floor, blood pooled around them as their empty gazes looked up, pale and cold.

It was your mother that turned to look at you, an evil glint in her eyes and a menacing grin dawning her mouth, teeth flashing white against her reddened skin. You were frozen at the spot, unable to move or blink as she crept her way to you.

Before your mother could get her hand around your throat, the door busted open. Three men tore through the room, the taller brunette, and the tall dirty blonde with guns at the ready, while the other man in the trench coat walked through the house like a man on a mission—by then you had guessed they were.

Everything went by in a blur, unseeing to your eyes as you heard furniture being broken, blood curdling screams and shots fired. You were numb.

You kept your eyes on your little sister’s, who was conveniently facing your way. Your blood ran cold, and it wasn’t until the end of the silence when you were picked up by the moose-man hybrid and debriefed.

A Shapeshifter. Evidently, your mother was probably taken and killed sometime back, only to be replaced by the monster. Apparently it had been happening in the town, but you wouldn’t know, would you? You were too selfish to care about another person’s life and wellbeing.

You thank them, for what? You don’t know. You find out their names, Dean, Sam, and Castiel, who was evidently an Angel of the Lord. You couldn’t help but point out the irony, letting out a humourless chuckle.

That was nearly a year ago. You had asked them to take you with them because you had nothing left. So there it went, (Y/N) (L/N) was officially missing, with an APB out for Voluntary Manslaughter.

You got off the radar, changing your name and identity, and living with the boys in the safest place on earth. The bunker in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas.

You hunted with them once in a while, but they thought it better for you to do research. You knew why, though. That little voice in your head would mimic their voices with strained thoughts, explaining to you exactly why the boys want you to stay at home.

Dean’s voice would be gruff, rumbling and pointing out your flaws. _“Look at you, (Y/N). You’re weak, and honestly, you look like you’ve had one too many Twinkies. Quite frankly, you’re a liability._

Sam would give you pitying looks, knowing looks. He would try to let you down gently, but the thought makes your chest ache. _“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But he’s right. It’s dangerous out there, so why don’t you just stay here and do research? We’ll call you if we need anything.”_

Except you know that Sam is an adept researcher, and even if he did need something, that’s what Garth was for. So, rarely did they ever call you if they needed something, and usually it’s to run little errands for when they were on their way back.

Castiel on the other hand. He would just look at you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head just so like a threatened puppy. It was like he knew what you were thinking, and it hadn’t made you feel like you were getting any better. _“It would be wise for you to stay behind. Let the Winchesters handle it themselves, (Y/N).”_

The worst thing about it is the looks that all three of them gave you. You were barely 18, still a baby in their eyes, and you had developed a certain attraction towards them. The brothers had developed a habit of calling you Jailbait, and that little pet name would cause your beaten and broken heart to flutter even just a bit. You were like Pavlov’s dog, at full attention and at the ready for a command every time they called you by that stupid pet name, but it was the only attention that you ever really got, so you listened.

You waited for them on your tip toes and catered to their needs, all while you were trying to fight against your own thoughts and emotions. But that was it, wasn’t it?

It was after the first few hunts you actually went with the boys that they decided you were better off the field. You were reckless and inexperienced, and too many times have you almost encountered your death. Had it been unwelcomed would you be concerned, but honestly you knew what you were doing. You should have died that night with your family and if hunting was a way to thrive in that feeling, then so be it.

You wish you were still on the field though. The boys are always out of the bunker, finding new cases every step of the way now that the Gates of Hell were still wide open, leaving you to your own devices. But leaving you alone with your own thoughts was probably worse than taking you out to a hunt. It didn’t help that you had no contact with anyone outside the bunker. Castiel definitely only came to visit very few and in between, mostly to check on the boys, and it made your heart sink.

To the awkward Angel, it would always be the boys first. It was the little mannerisms that you picked up from the millennia old entity that had you make yourself scarce whenever the boys were in. But to you? He always looked at you with a strange glint in his eye. The look alone made you want to claw away at your skin and crawl in a hole to be alone for the rest of your days.

It all leads to this moment, really. You regret ever allowing you to tag along. You stood in your bathroom, staring at the mirror. Only you could judge yourself in a way that is only through your own eyes, complimented with a sneer towards your reflection. You knew you weren’t the most beautiful woman out there. Hell, you couldn’t even amount to all those women you’ve seen hanging off of the brothers’ arms.

The few times you were out with them after a hunt, huddled in the corner of a darkly dimmed bar cradling your bottle of soda, you’ve seen the type of women who would go for the brothers. Sometimes it’d be only Dean. Sometimes Sam would find a woman, and sometimes both. They would both leave you alone in the corner, watching as they each wrapped an arm around the woman’s petite shoulders and hole up in whatever motel room they could get.

You weren’t the skinniest woman out there. After so long, and being along in the bunker, you’ve had more opportunities to go out and get snacks, binging on what you can. Cookies, pies, candy, chips, anything you could get your hands on, and it’s starting to take its toll. You were getting pudgier, and your face was getting rounder, and there was only so much a large sweater could do.

Your body and face were riddled with scars, three particularly distinct scars running diagonally across your face, a result from a werewolf hunt gone wrong. That was your last real hunt after the boys yelled and lectured about your stupidity.

 _“What. The_ fuck. _was that?” Dean growled out. Sam looked down at your hunched figure with a pinched expression._

_“I’m sorry,” you quietly let out, wincing in pain as you hide your face from the brothers. You couldn’t let them see the scratch, because that’s all it was. Just a scratch._

_“Sorry? You’re_ sorry, _(Y/N)?” Dean scoffed. “Well, sorry ain’t gonna cut it. What the hell were you thinking jumping in front of them like that?”_

_“You should’ve just let us handle it from the start, (Y/N). Dean’s right, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” Sam’s voice was laced with disappointment, and you couldn’t help stop the whimper that escaped your lips._

_“She could’ve gotten us all killed! Making stupid decisions like that are what get hunters killed, you get that?” You nod silently, keeping your face down. You knew what he was implying, and you believed him. You were stupid enough to threaten their lives, least importantly yours._

_“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Dean wrenched you upwards, face twisted in horror as he saw your face dripping in crimson. “Fuck!” Is the last thing you hear the brothers say, before promptly blacking out._

Tears ran a steady stream down your face. Sniffling, you ran the back of your hand across your face, clearing away the tears, but leaving behind the evidence of your pain. Face flushed, eyes and nose red, you looked down at your body one last time, grabbing a handful of your flesh, tugging and pulling as another sob escapes your mouth.

Lucky for you, the boys were out hunting a Rougarou all the way in Washington, and you weren’t expecting them for another week. Looking down at your near nakedness, you decided to forgo any extra clothing and just crawled under your bed sheets, crying until everything fades to black.

Waking up is a struggle. Every day, every moment you’re alone, your thoughts just weigh heavier and press harder down on you. You like to walk around the vast expanse of the bunker, entertaining yourself to keep the voices in your mind at bay. The boys don’t ever call, so you entertain yourself with research. Often it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It leads you into bad headspace, and one way or another, it leaves you with a decision of whether or not today was the day. But for some reason, it never pans out. A little thought in your head says that the boys would probably not appreciate it in the least.

Time blurs together, and at the moment, you’re sitting on your bed in silence. You pick at the frayed edges of your oversized sweater, chewing your bottom lip raw as the anxiety creeps up on you. The boys weren’t due for another day or two, so you decided to just have… a _quiet_ day. Ironic, seeing how every day is quiet for you. You stared at the blank screen of the TV, letting the voices dictate your thoughts, the words your fake-mother said before she died. You hear the quiet flap of wings in the corner of the room, the noise knocking you out of your reverie and you turn your head towards Castiel, ignorant of his scrutiny. At this point, you’re too numb to notice.

“Hello, (Y/N).” At the smooth rumble of his voice do you allow your eyes to actually see him. He’s standing in the furthest corner of your room, figures.

“Hey, Cas.” Out of all of them, you were most partial towards the Angel. Whether it’s his vessels dark tousled hair, or ethereal blue eyes. Whether it’s the mystery and curiosity of the entity who had seen the formation of the Universe, you didn’t know. It probably explained the throbbing of your heart every time you were in the same room as him.

“How are you feeling today?” His plush lips are turned down at the corners, and his eyes are narrowed, as per usual. You do your best to plaster on a smile and quiet his show of concern.

“What do you mean? I’m doing fine, like usual.” You could tell that he was picking apart your lie. By the little twitch in his eyebrow or the flex in his jawline, you knew you were caught.

“I might not have been human long, (Y/N), but I know that ‘doing fine’ does not include tears.” You quickly wipe at your face, unknowing of the wet tracks. You chuckle lightly at his continuous use of air quotes, brushing off his statement.

“I’m _fine_. You really don’t have to act concerned, Castiel.” You kick your feet off the bed and stand, brushing off imaginary lint from your sweater, keeping your back faced towards the Angel. You could feel the shift in the room, a sort of energy being emanated from the man-being, and you could tell he was bordering pissed.

“What do you mean by _act_? Do not belittle my questions of concern for you, _girl._ ” You turn quickly, a patented Dean Winchester smile on your face as you brush off his annoyance.

“It’s okay, Cas. I know I’m not a Winchester, you don’t have to treat me like one of them.” With quick feet, the Angel stepped up to you, hovering over your (height) frame, a dark ring coming off of his body, making him seem larger.

“I am an _Angel,_ (Y/N). I can see your soul, swathed in pain and fear and hate. And although I am partial to the company of the Winchesters, do _not_ lie to me and insult me by saying that you are unimportant.” In that moment, the looming figure quieted, and Castiel spoke softly. “You, like Dean, have a soul that shines brighter than most, despite your struggles.”

You barely manage to stop the huff coming from your mouth, but in the end, you just flash another grin and pat his cheek condescendingly.

“Thanks, Feathers but I’ve been told differently. You know,” you click your tongue. “The gesture is nice, but there are other ways in getting into my pants.” Winking, you walked past, towards your door, the Angel hot on your trail.

Before he could respond, you could hear the doors to the bunker opening, and voices calling out.

“(Y/N)? You there?” Sam and Dean were back. Pursing your lips, you swipe at your face one more time, plastering another fake smile to walk out and greet the boys.

The two of them looked harried, hair and clothes mussed this way and that, dirt, blood, and you don’t even want to question whatever else that was, smudged across their whole being. Looking at them made you wince, watching as they came down the steps and tousled your (H/L), (H/C) hair like a little kid.

Harrumphing, you swatted at their hands as they passed.

“Why are you back so early? I thought you weren’t coming back for another couple of days.” The brothers dropped their bags haphazardly next to the War Room table, and stretched out their sore limbs and muscles from the presumably long car ride back.

Dean turned and rolled his eyes, muttering quietly under his breath. Sighing, he stood with his back straight and looked straight at you.

“You really should start check your phone more. We sent you a message letting you know that we were headed back earlier than anticipated. Honestly, Jailbait. It’s not easy committing credit card fraud, so what’s the point of getting you a phone using stolen credit cards if you aren’t going to use it.”

There it was again. That pang of _something_ in your chest. You swallowed thickly at the look of disappointment from Sam’s face and the look of annoyance from Dean’s. You nodded, smile faltering.

“Sorry, been busy,” you chuckle awkwardly. The eldest Winchester scoffed as Castiel came into view.

“Apparently,” he said snidely. Turning to the Angel, he smirked. “Hey, Cas! Had fun babysitting Jailbait?” You flinched, visibly, if Sam’s look of confusion said anything. You ignored the conversation between the Angel and the eldest Winchester, picking at the hem of your sleeve out of habit. Keeping your head ducked, you laughed humourlessly.

“Yeah, we had so much fun.” Your voice cracked slightly, tears burning your eyes. You think you succeeded, but you keep a pinched smile on your face as you look up. “I’ll just go make some dinner while you clean up.” Without another word, you turn on your heel and rush to the kitchen.

There it was again. The disappointment coming off the brothers in waves. You knew you were useless to them. You couldn’t even do one thing right, and you knew what he said was true. You were a waste of space and time and apparently stolen money. Letting out a shaky breath, you started on getting dinner ready.

You had everything ready, almost. You figured you could do something with your free time yesterday and decided to make hamburger patties, seasoned and ready for when the boys came back. You made a cherry pie from scratch and it sat in the fridge, waiting to be placed in the oven, for Dean. You cut up vegetables and made croutons and dressing from scratch just to feed Sam’s rabbit/moose needs.

You did everything for them, and still… you quietly let out a sob into the crook of your arm. At that point, you felt like nothing was going to change. You knew how the two brothers worked. They like to pick up wayward orphans, but that’s all you were to them. A child who was unfortunate enough to lose their whole family and fall into hunting, right into the hands of the Winchesters.

You took out the patties and the vegetables, along with the pie. You placed the pastry into the oven and set it to cook while you turned on the grill for the burgers. You tried your best to blink away the tears but they kept coming and you don’t think they were going to stop.

Stopping over the sink, you washed your hands with soap and water, lingering over the sink quietly until you heard the telltale flap of wings, feeling the presence of the Angel right behind you. Sniffling harshly, you reached up and wiped away your tears. You turned the sink off and turned around, leaning your hip against the ledge, propping up your hands.

“Hey, Feathers. We need to stop meeting like this,” you chided jokingly, the corners of your lips tilted upwards. He only frowned in response. _Awkward_ , you thought. So clearing your throat, you squeezed in between the lean frame in front of you and the edge of the sink, finding that the grill was heating up nicely. You checked the progress of the pie, seeing the raw dough glaze a little from the heat.

Grabbing a spatula, you started to put patties on the grill, trying to ignore the celestial presence in the kitchen. _Heh, you’d never thought you’d ever hear yourself say that._ Your life was weird, and that was being modest.

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you earlier, (Y/N). I apologize.” A giggle rises from your throat, unseeing of the day that you would hear the Angel say sorry to you. “Why are you laughing?” Laughter bubbles up, and you can’t help kneeling over in half, vehemently shaking your head at his confusion. At the smell of overcooked meat, you jump up and quickly flip over the patties, wiping away at your eyes, a smile on your face.

“I just never thought I would hear the day that _you_ , _Angel_ , would be apologizing to _me._ ” You huffed, working around the counters to prepare the buns and the salads.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel responds with a confused lilt.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Cas” you sigh while putting plates and utensils out. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you. Why would you think that?” You shrug, keeping your eyes away from him.

“Ever since I got here, you just seemed to… I don’t know. Be wary? Cautious? Every time you looked at me, it was like you were… _judging_ me with your divinity.” You step back towards the grill, aware that he was following back and forth, only a few steps behind. “Look, I know how you feel about the Winchesters, and I know I’m… a _distraction_. But, I swear that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just… I don’t know what to do. About anything.” You turned off the grill, moving the pan off the heat and slumping against the counter. Taking a chance, you looked up to see a look of pity in his vessel’s eyes. Steeling yourself, you pushed up.

You will _not_ be pitied. You didn’t need that.

“Don’t look at me like that, Castiel,” you growl. “I don’t need you looking at me like I’m some kind of charity case. I’ve had enough of it.” You take a step, only to have him move in your way. You take another step to the side, and he blocks you yet again. You look up to see his face set in determination. Carefully, like you were a scared animal, he lifted up his hands and cupped your face.

“Why do you feel so negatively about yourself, (Y/N)? Ignore what Dean says, he cares about you. So does Sam.” You roll your wet eyes, annoyed with your constant crying. Dean was right, maybe you were a baby.

“Yeah, right” you sniffed sarcastically. “Explains to me why they treat me like shit. _‘A fat, selfish, pig who has done nothing good for nobody but yourself,’_ right Feathers?”

“That wasn’t her, remember? (Y/N), that wasn’t your mother talking, and it isn’t true. You’re beautiful, inside and out. It doesn’t matter what the Shapeshifter said, because I know who you are.” Castiel ducked his head, meeting your eyes straight on. “That’s why I look at you. Your soul shines like a beacon of light. I can read your thoughts and emotions, and I cannot stress enough in how important you are to not only the boys, but to me.”

You could feel the heat spread throughout your face. Here you were, all snotty and teary, while getting a pep talk from a messenger of God. Divine intervention, you could joke, but you decided not to. Reaching up, you grasped the Angel’s hands and leaned into his touch, feeling a million times better than you were before.

That feeling that had sat idle in your heart for so long seemed to flare with close proximity to the Angel, and before you could think twice, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the junction of his neck. Castiel went stiff for a moment before wrapping his arms around your waist tight.

You didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh, so you did both, each of your arms tightening even more so around one another. It was comforting, clearing up one of the many issues in the bunker.

The two of you stayed wrapped up around each other until you heard someone clearing their throat. Judging from the timbre, you knew it was Dean stopped at the edge of the doorway. You could hear a second set of distinct footsteps, knowing that the brothers came to look for sustenance.

“Are we interrupting something? Practicing for a chick flick screen play?” Squeezing Castiel once more, you ignored Dean, pulling back and pecking Castiel on the cheek for good measure.

“Thanks, Feathers. I feel a lot better now.” The trench coat-clad man could only offer a nod and a smile in return. Taking a deep breath in, you breathed out and turned back to the food, continuing your preparations.

“Sit down, I’m almost done,” you ordered the boys as you finished plating the food.

“Is that pie I smell?” Smiling at the eldest Winchester, you nodded, sitting a burger in front of each of the brothers.

“Yup, cherry. Made from scratch, just for you Dean.” You couldn’t ignore the flashing grin that was pointed your way. You turned to the younger brother, watching him maneuver his burger around for the best bite.

“I’ve got a salad coming up for you, Sam. Homemade croutons and vinaigrette, just for the occasion.” Sam looked up from his meal, smiling all dimply and wide.

“Thanks, (Y/N). That’d be awesome.”

“ _Dude_. This hamburger is _awesome!_ You’re the freaking best, (Y/N).” Huffing in amusement, you turned back to get Sam’s salad, brushing your hand against a bypassing Angel, who was on his way to taking a seat. Noises of gratitude filled the room as an easy banter shot across the table between the brothers.

Maybe Castiel could read your thoughts and emotions, maybe he wasn’t really clear on them. But one thing you knew for sure, it didn’t hurt to have them.

Maybe things were looking up for you. You weren’t still 100% on everything, and yeah you still had your own demons to fight, and yeah.

Maybe it was wrong to feel something for the three men behind you, maybe it wasn’t.

All you know is that there isn’t anything wrong for feeling good for the first time in a long time.

And who knows? Who’s to say that an Angel, a Squirrel and a Moose cannot love back? Even just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> You can ask me anything via comments, or Tumblr: [pandemoniax3](http://pandemoniax3.tumblr.com)  
> .  
> Please comment or kudos, or don't. It's up to you. (:  
> I've only ever stuck in one fandom, Destiel, but I'm venturing out haha.  
> Well, I hope you enjoyed. If requested, I might add more.


End file.
